A/N: I have not written fanfiction in a very long time. Please let me know if this sucks or if you enjoy it. This will be Robin/Frederick eventually.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx
"Who's there?" Robin looked up at the soft sound, taking care to keep his quill hovered over the inkpot as the ink dripped.
"Apologies," Frederick said from the entrance. The heavily armored knight stepped away from the tent fold. "I didn't meant to startle you. Are you busy?"
Robin relaxed, putting down the quill and leaning back in his chair. He sighed, rubbing his temples with both hands. A headache threatened, but at least it wasn't the crippling, nauseous pain that signaled the beginning of one of his migraines. They had been getting more frequent lately. "Yes, but not so busy that I can't take a break." His head swam with battle plans and the details of the terrain they would soon encounter. "Do you need something?" He stretched, arching his back and moving his arms over his head.
"Have you been working on your swordplay?" Frederick said, his keen eyes roving. Robin raised an eyebrow, and Frederick ducked his gaze. "Perhaps you could benefit from some early morning training. Your magic is formidable, but if an enemy catches you off guard…"
"Are you offering to train me?"
Frederick looked up. "Y-yes. I want to make sure everyone in the army is in top shape, especially you."
"That's helpful, Frederick, but it's not morning now," Robin said with a small smile. "Perhaps another time?"
Frederick's flat expression never changed, but Robin noticed a slight tension around the other man's eyes that had been there for the past few weeks. "That is fine. I…what if I merely tidied your quarters?" His fingers twitched, another strange symptom Frederick had acquired recently. He constantly needed something to do, and apparently Chrom wasn't giving him as many tasks as he once had.
Robin nodded. "Very well. I suppose I could use some help organizing my strategy books. If you don't mind, of course."
"Of course not." Frederick strode into the room, heading immediately to the makeshift bookshelves. In moments he somehow had six books in his hands, reading the spines carefully to attempt to put them in some perfect order that was known only to the knight.
Robin shook his head. He hoped Lissa's lessons with Frederick about how to relax were going well. It seemed he needed them more than ever.
Putting the sounds of reshelving out of his mind, Robin focused once more on his maps. A hastily scrawled name caught his eye. Who was Kellam again?
An enormous crash from behind him nearly made him jump out of his chair. He turned to see the bookshelf, once propped up with a flimsy twig, in pieces on the floor, along with his books. Frederick stared in horror.
"Apologies," the knight said, kneeling down among the fallen books. "I will fix this."
Robin set down his quill and stood up. Enough was enough. He walked over, putting his hand on the brunette's shoulder. The powerful muscles there were unbelievably tense. "Frederick, what's been bothering you of late?" Robin asked. "I'm beginning to worry."
"I am quite well. It is nothing." Frederick picked up a piece of the bookcase.
Robin tensed his jaw. "It is not nothing." He dug his fingers harder into the other man's shoulder, working his thumb into the muscle, and Frederick gave a small sigh of relief as tension eased under Robin's hand. "You are not yourself. What is wrong?"
"I…" Frederick tried to prop up the bookcase, but only succeeded in snapping the piece of wood in half in his hands. "Gods damn it."
Robin winced. "C'mon, man, whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
"I failed Chrom," Frederick said, his voice suddenly pained. "Worse, I embarrassed him."
"I…what?"
"I just wanted to do my duty. To show the camp the strength and beauty of their prince."
Everything clicked in Robin's mind, and if Frederick didn't look so despondent he would have laughed. "You mean those posters you had made?"
"Yes. Those gods-cursed posters. Why didn't I think? And then to see Chrom so angry…A knight's duty is to anticipate what their lord desires. What kind of knight am I, to fail so?"
"Hey, look…" Robin patted him on the shoulder. "It's not so bad. I'm sure he's forgotten all about it." Fat chance of that.
"And now he wants me to scale back my services." Frederick closed his eyes as if in physical pain. "He's lost faith in my abilities." So, it was more than just the silly posters.
"That's not true." Robin spoke with true conviction. "All he wants is for you to take time for yourself. To relax!"
"How can I relax when we are at war?" Frederick retorted. He stood up, Robin stepping back to give him space. "You say to relax, but when you are not poring over your books you are working on your combat abilities. I've seen you in pain from overwork, and I know you take concoctions for headaches." Robin grit his teeth, but kept his mouth shut. His migraines had nothing to do with overwork, but he had no desire to correct anyone of the notion. "Why does Chrom not recognize I only want what is best for everyone in camp?"
"Why do you not recognize that we want what is best for you?" Robin said. "Working toward self betterment is important, but so is rest! If you are so stressed you cannot organize a bookcase, how do you expect to fare in battle?" he pointed to the mess on the floor.
Frederic looked away. "I will fix that." His voice fell back to its usual flat tone.
Robin sighed, his frustration draining away. He had to fix this, and he wasn't referring to the bookcase.
"Look, Frederick. Let's strike up a compromise." The knight raised an eyebrow.
"You want what's best for everyone, but you take it too far." He held up a hand, forestalling Frederick's argument. "I want you to relax, but I recognize that perhaps what you find relaxing and what the rest of us may find relaxing are two different things. And clearly Chrom wants you to take it easy as well. So how about…" how best to phrase this, "instead of serving Chrom quite so closely, you help me out instead?"
"What?"
"Instead of making work for yourself constantly, if you feel the need to do something, come to me. I am the army's tactician, after all. I will find meaningful work for you."
"My work is always meaning-"
"Yes, yes, I know," Robin said hurriedly. "But there are definitely things I could use your keen organizational skills for, besides clearing paths and, uh, raising morale. I would like your aid."
Frederick narrowed his eyes. "What if you have nothing?"
"Then you will relax. I'll see to it, Frederick. I'll not have you burning yourself out, or inadvertently embarrassing anyone again."
He hated to twist the knife, but it had the intended effect. Frederick sighed. "Very well. In the future, I will look to you for suggestions on how to spend my free time."
"Wonderful." Robin smiled. He hoped this worked out. The strict knight was somewhat hard to read, and they hadn't gotten off on the best foot when they had first met, but he had hope that he could show Frederick how to relax. And if not, at least educate him on the most efficient ways to spend his time and get him past this slump of his.
"I will start with the bookcase, shall I?" Frederick asked.
"What? Oh, yes. Please do."
Robin sat back in his chair, looking over his maps once again as Frederick worked behind him. He had a feeling he was going to be seeing a lot more of the seasoned knight. He hoped that was a good thing.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"No," Frederick said. "That is effective but not most efficient against an opponent with a lance. Try it this way." As he spoke he lunged, Robin holding the sword the way Frederick had indicated. The lance struck against his sword, sliding just to the right of Robin's foot.
"Efficient but frightening," Robin said with a nervous laugh as Frederick pulled the lance out of the dirt. He wiped sweat from his brow. "Thanks."
"No problem." Of course, Frederick was not the least bit winded, although a bit of perspiration trickled down his temple and down his neck.
Robin looked away. He needn't get distracted by Frederick, of all people. He had an army to plan for, and lust was not part of any of his plans.
A shadow passed over him, and Robin looked up. Sumia's pegasus circled overhead, flying slower than usual. A familiar form clad in blue held on to Sumia's shoulders.
The pegasus came in for a landing, and Chrom hopped off, his face red. Sumia was blushing also, and nearly fell when she dismounted. The lord caught her.
"Greetings, Robin, Frederick. We were just out for an early morning flight," Chrom said.
Robin smiled at Sumia's anxious fidgeting. There was a twig in her hair. Early morning flight indeed. "It is a nice day, isn't it?"
"Why not join us on the practice field, milord?" Frederick said. "Robin could use some extra training." Robin grimaced.
"Perhaps in the afternoon, Frederick." Chrom took Sumia's hand for a moment, an obvious sign of affection that he did a poor job of hiding. The two parted ways, Sumia waving, and soon Robin and Frederick were once again alone in the practice field.
Robin sighed, once again wiping sweat from his brow. Just because he didn't let lust rule him didn't mean others wouldn't, even princes.
"Alright Frederick…" Robin trailed off.
The knight was staring daggers after Sumia, his mouth in a firm frown.
Oh Gods. This was more complicated than Robin had thought.